If There's One Thing That We Know
by forsillyfools
Summary: A birthday is never just a birthday, not for them. Four years later and they're somehow still  inexplicably  intertwined.


**Disclaimer** : Glee doesn't belong to me, no copyright infringement intended.

**AN **: Figured I should post these before the Season 2 premiere (today, oh joy!). This ensemble fic was written for the gleefics lj community 'birthday challenge' from way before the Back 9 and Puck's serenading Quinn and thus naming Baby Beth. It's a future!fic AU and I'll just leave it at that.

Title is borrowed from the Lenka song, We Will Not Grow Old.

* * *

**If There's One Thing That We Know**

—

Three - soon to be four - year old Hannah Fabray-Puckerman doesn't know any better, so when her Uncle Matt and Uncle Mike with their matching grins, each take one of her hands and lift her feet off the grass, her hazel eyes only widen in surprise and her mouth forms a little 'o'.

As it turns out, she doesn't need to know any better; they begin swinging her between them and instinct kicks in and all she has to do is laugh and giggle and laugh. Her legs kick up and she's all toothy(ish) grin and there's nothing more disarming than a child in the throes of simple, pure glee.

"_I'm more than a bird_," Mike warbles as she goes backwards, making a face at her that elicits another giggle.

"_I'm more than a plane_," Matt follows, taking up the second line as Hannah swings forward and shrieks joyfully.

And in unison, even in their chortles at the sight of Quinn rounding the corner and stopping dead in her tracks with narrowing eyes, they burst out. "_I'm a birdplaaaane, a mother-_" "Puck_!_" "-_in birdplaaaane~_!"

After which Matt picks her up, hoists Babygirl onto his broad shoulders and makes a run for the trampoline, Mike trailing closely behind with a cheeky wink back at the overprotective mother.

Hannah is all uninhibited laughter the entire way there. And she, the lucky girl, is about to be experience the comedic acts of the Axis of Awesome.

—

Puck, hearing the shrill call of his baby momma - despite the fact that she's well aware of his being three feet behind her - passes the petite figure with a grunt as he sets the cooler down on the bench seat of the picnic table.

"Your friends seem to have the birthday girl confused for a football," she snaps at him, resting the tray of fruits on the wooden surface of the table. He can tell by the face she's making that she's raring to march over there. Quinn is, in fact, debating how much trauma it would give her impressionable daughter to be smacking the two man-children upside the head while she's watching.

"Chill out, Q. They're like, babysitting for free."

And his boys are frickin' awesome with Hannah, why else would the kid be smiling so much unless she was having the time of her life? Not to say the rest of their friends don't chip in (it's a privilege, in Puck's opinion): out of respect, they don't ask Finn unless Rachel hints that he's not likely to brood for the next week because of it. Rachel volunteers all the time but Quinn doesn't want her child suffering from overexposure to showtunes. Santana can only stand a baby's unpredictability for an hour and Kurt feels the same way, starting the 'I'll Never Get The Baby Puke Smell Off My Armani Sweater' Facebook group after his first babysitting episode sans Mercedes. Who is Momma Bear. No joke.

If Artie weren't always busy with his five million clubs and associations, he'd have been Quinn's second choice for favourite babysitter but Puck is a little more wary of the guy after The Baby Monitor incident from a year back. And if Puck hadn't developed this freaky little sister relationship with Tina, any suspicion he harbours about That Night would've been transferred to her too because, seriously? Not around his child, dude.

In any case, she's off the hook because she likes to come over and cook pancakes and she calls him out when he's being douchier than usual.

As for Brittany? The girl loses wheelchairs.

Enough said.

He's kind of drowned Quinn out as he searches the cooler for something to drink, only looking up when she's finally stopped talking. Because that's how it works-that's his cue to start listening.

"If she breaks even a nail, I will break your face." And glancing back at the duo on the trampoline, Quinn's lips curl into a fond, if not slightly feral, smile. "All of your faces. At the same time."

Puck blinks back at her and they stare each other down for a few seconds before he smirks and drawls, "… Damn, I am so hot for you right now."

When Quinn twirls back into his (mom's) house, Puck decides a break is in order and pops open the can of Dr. Pepper he'd fished out earlier before surveying the yard. His eyes land on Brittany who's joined the jumping party on the trampoline.

And she totally forgot that she's wearing a skirt. _Nice._

—

"I knew this would happen. Luckily, I've come prepared," says Kurt, dangling two shopping bags full of toddler-sized clothing in front of her nose. "I know Hannah likes pink but there's such a thing as over-indulgence. She looks like a Kelly doll circa '95."

He's met with stony silence from the young mother counting goody bags on the dining table, which naturally just eggs him on even more. "Have you been raiding Strawberry Shortcake's closet again?"

"Kurt," Quinn starts sweetly as she shoots the self-proclaimed 'honorary girl' a frosty glare which he reciprocates with one of his own. "It's her fourth birthday. She's going to be running around with a bunch of other children and she'll be having fun and I don't think she'll care that there's grass stains on her capris. It's not a fashion-."

"Stop right there. Honey, everyday is a fashion show. Mercedes, please talk some sense into her," he demands of his partner-in-crime who's just entered the kitchen with a grocery bag full of hotdogs and hamburgers. She sets it down on the counter with a raised eyebrow and then throws an amused look at the 'her' in question. "Sorry Kurt, but between you and white girl here? I ain't messin' with the momma."

Kurt, feeling shunned, yanks one of the bags away from the smirking Quinn to dig out a yellow number with daisy accents before exiting the kitchen via the sliding door, onto the patio.

"Excuse me, gentlemen, but if you could please desist your child's play. She's not a football, you know."

From inside the house, Quinn smiles.

—

"…Finn?"

These birthdays, these get-togethers, they're always bittersweet for him.

In the morning, when he first arrives with the biggest pink teddy bear he can find, it's easy to forget that the little girl that comes running towards him isn't his own. Rachel's not arriving for a while on account of her having to run a few errands for Quinn before the party, but Finn is relieved to find that he's not the first one there. Setting up the inflatable slip and slide becomes a four man job with Kurt huffing and rolling his eyes every five minutes as Puck, Mike and him each take turns with the dilapidated electric pump.

"Finn…"

Later on, he finds himself decorating the deck with Brittany, and they're having a really neat conversation about balloons.

("So he never has to pay for gas because his house is like, wind-powered and he has a talking dog. It's based on a true story." "Oh, like a bibliography?" "Yep, totally.")

By the time Rachel arrives, the party's in full swing, and after greeting him with a kiss hello, she retreats back into the house where Tina is organizing activities for the kids after Artie's magic show. Matt and Mercedes are on barbecue duty so he just looks out over the yard. He doesn't realize someone else has joined him until a voice cuts through the buzz of his thoughts.

"God, Finn, you've been standing there for decades. Quinn's going to uninvite you to these things if you keep staring down her kid like that."

Santana hasn't lost any of the bite in her tone over the last three years. Finn focuses on the Latina's profile and then looks away, uncertainty marring his still boyish features. He's initially offended but then she rolls her eyes at him and aims a poke at his bicep. She's unforgiving as ever but then they meet each other's eyes and today, the implication just roll off his back.

"What'd you get her?" He asks, gesturing towards the gift bag dangling from her left wrist.

Her lips tighten into a smirk and she tosses her hair over her shoulder, free from the constricting ponytail of her Cheerio days. "One of those slutty Bratz dolls, just to piss Puck off."

A slow, lopsided smile spreads across his features and he nods in approval before she begins to saunter away. "I'm waiting until he's sloshed. Youtube needs another Saint Puck speech," she tosses over her shoulder before joining an enthralled Brittany who's watching in awe as Arturo the Astounding pulls flowers out of his sleeve.

—

"Have you guys seen Artie's magic hat? I accidentally put my cell phone in it and there's no service in there."

Brittany is met with two confused no's (and one incredulous roll of the eyes) so she slips back out of the kitchen. Interruption gone, the three turn back to the discussion at hand.

"I believe that as Hannah's favourite pseudo-aunt, I should be the one to lead the chorus for 'Happy Birthday'. And while I understand there were some protests from certain parties over last year's performance, I can assure you all that there will be no such grievances this year as I am committed to a standard interpretation to please the entire assembly. I'd also like to point out that I made the cake and even though it took me most of last evening, all of this morning and there's purple food colouring stains that are no doubt permanently embedded on my favourite kitty cat apron, it was made with love, to perfection. Therefore, I should get the hon-."

"Girl, as long as you don't start doing those spirit fingers like last year, you can go ahead and sing your brains out-" "Please do." Rachel shoots a disapproving look at Kurt who merely inspects his nails with pursed lips. Mercedes hides a smile but her 'tude returns as she points a finger at Rachel from across the island, the cake sitting between them.

"But you are not Hannah's favourite 'cuz I've already got that title."

Rachel's face falls.

—

Still, she gets the honours. Rachel traipses out with a castle-shaped cake, dazzling everyone with her 10 kilowatt smile as she leads the partygoers into a relatively classic rendition of 'Happy Birthday' - last year's jazzed-up version didn't go over well with the children. Finn thinks she's the cutest thing ever, especially when she bends a bit to place the cake in front of Hannah with a flourish and her skirt flares up just enough from where he's sitting and he can totally see… "Aw yeah."

"Dude! Come on, Artie, that's not cool."

The culprit merely raises his gloved hands in the universal sign of 'wasn't me' and not until after Hannah blows out the candles and the cheers and applause start does Artie raise a palm towards Finn who's still figuring out how annoyed he should be.

Of course, he high-fives back.

—

Artie thinks Tina will make the best mom ever. In fact, he's so convinced of it that he finds himself blurting it out to her later in the evening when the other children have gone home and it's just Glee clubbers left over. Puck and Mike have taken out the special 'adults-only' cooler, evidence being the two different bottles in his lap as he wheels up the makeshift ramp to his girlfriend who's sitting on a lounge chair on the deck.

"Hannah-banana," he hears Tina cooing softly as the tired little girl nestled on her lap lets out a mewl of a yawn. "Are you sleepy already?"

She's greeted with an adamant shake of the head and the denial is expected, but it still causes Tina's lips to twitch up into a smile. For Artie, it's like he's falling in love all over again.

"You're gonna be such an awesome mom."

"You think?"

"Yeah. And our kids-."

"Our kids?"

"Oh, well, when we're married…"

"We're getting married?"

"Well, yeah? Aren't we?" Artie's getting a bit lost but then Tina shrugs and locks eyes with him. "Is that your proposal?"

"I-what? Now? Not… I mean, why? Do you want to…?"

Tina just blinks at him, deadpan, and this isn't good for Artie because even after three years, he's still a bit dense when it comes to reading her (girls in general; Rachel is a whole other species as far as he's concerned).

Hannah squirms just then, seemingly reenergized by their banter despite not understanding any of it, and Tina loosens her hold around her. Brittany grins at them both as she scoops the birthday girl out of Tina's lap and the two blondes head towards the grass to catch fireflies.

Artie's still wearing that bemused look on his face, but any worries are promptly thrown out the window when Tina leans over and gives him a Raspberry Smirnoff-flavoured kiss.

—

_"ONE… TWO…"_

_"WOOOOOOOOOOOO!"_

_"OHMYGODMYHAIR-!"_

_"I'M SUPERMAN~"_

They all take turns on the slip and slide.

It's almost ten o'clock at night and Puck's pretty sure his neighbours are going to call the cops because they're frickin' prudes like that and they probably think dancing around a fire pit is a safety hazard, but right now, he can't get himself to care.

Quinn's clutching her sides as Kurt stalks past her with crazy eyes, demanding a towel from Finn who's blatantly pretending that there isn't one slung over his shoulder. Rachel's giggling sweetly beside him, until Mike hits her with the hose and she lets out a squeal and begins to chase the jock, shrilly threatening him with the leftover contents of her plastic cup.

Santana glares suspiciously at Mercedes who's smiling a little too warmly at her (and it's so not because of Matt who is sneaking up behind the ex-Cheerio with the seeming intention of tackling her onto the slip and slide). Artie is regaling Brittany and Hannah by the fire pit, throwing something into the flame that makes it change into all sorts of funky colours, and Tina has somehow ended up beside him, camcorder in hand as she stands on a chair and does a slow sweep of the chaos that is his backyard.

None of them care.

All they want to do is revel in the balmy spring night and four years worth of memories and each other.


End file.
